


ricochet days

by oryx



Category: Kamen Rider Drive
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone gives Shinnosuke a chance to change the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ricochet days

**Author's Note:**

> i have this saved as "ask me about my bitterness.doc"

“To-ma-ri-cha-n,” Honganji says, accentuating each syllable of his name as he beams at him brightly. “You’ve been suspended!”  
   
The Chief slaps a piece of paper on to the desk in front of him – a very official-looking document, his own photo staring up at him from the top corner, with a bright red stamp across it that reads “SUSP. FROM DUTY.”  
   
Shinnosuke blinks down at it for a moment, then glances back up at Honganji slowly, feeling his brow furrow in confusion.  
   
“I’m what now?” he says.  
   
“Suspended! For the rest of today and the rest of the week as well. Turns out you made a pretty serious error in your last case report. Cost the filing department two entire days of work and a whole lot of kowtowing in order to sort it out.” Honganji shakes his head. “Ought to be more careful when it comes to those things, you know.”  
   
Shinnosuke’s frown deepens, milk candy clicking against the back of his teeth. He hasn’t messed up a case report in more than a year and a half – not since Kiriko started proofreading them for him. At the very least he’s never known _her_ to make a mistake when it comes to paperwork.  
   
“Badge, please,” Honganji says in a suspiciously sing-song tone of voice, holding his hand out. “And make sure to vacate the premises as soon as possible. The new superintendent is very strict about enforcing suspensions, you know.”  
   
“Sir… _You’re_ the superintendent,” Shinnosuke says, but Honganji promptly flips open his phone, studying his horoscope with a ‘hmm’ and pretending not to hear him.  
   
It’s not until he’s out in the parking lot (having been forcefully pushed out the door by Gen-san) that he finally puts two and two together. The date that has been weighing on his mind all day – 8.8 – stares up at him from his phone lockscreen, and he breathes out a resigned, quiet laugh. What the hell kind of friends get someone purposefully suspended from their job? He texts that exact question to Kiriko as he slides into the car.  
   
_It was the only way to get you to take the day off_ , is her almost-immediate reply. _You would’ve played it off like it didn’t matter if they had brought it up to your face._  
   
_i’ll have you know i love taking days off_ , he types, tacking on an emoji that has an incredulous expression.  
   
_But you hate being so transparent about your weak points even more_ , she replies a moment later, and Shinnosuke laughs again, a sharp, taken-aback sort of sound, dragging a hand across his face.  
   
Why does she have to be so _right_ about everything?  
   
  
   
  
   
He has the recording set to play whenever someone turns on the lights.  
   
Maybe someday he’ll get tired of it – sick of living in the past, of hearing the same words over and over, already so familiar that he knows them by heart. But for now at least it’s still calming to him. Comfortable, in a way.  
   
“If you’re hearing this, Shinnosuke, that means you have broken our promise,” Krim’s voice says, echoing off the high ceiling of the warehouse, and it feels a bit like coming home.  
   
“Before we had our police facility, this is where we operated along with the Shift Cars.” Shinnosuke mouths along with the words as he brushes some dust off the hood of the ‘41 Coupe. (He really ought to cover them up, but something about the idea bothers him. Enough of his life has already been put away into storage. And it’s not like he can hire someone to maintain them. Unnecessary expense aside, the idea of anyone other than him and Kiriko setting foot in this place sets his teeth on edge.)  
   
He seats himself at the desk in the center of the room, spinning the chair around to peruse Krim’s vast array of photo albums, trailing a fingertip along the spines until he reaches one he hasn’t pored over yet. The albums are mainly just car photos, of course, but every once in a while Krim will appear in one of them, looking proud as he stands next to a new addition to his collection, wearing a different colourful suit and glasses combo every time. There are other people in only a handful – people Shinnosuke doesn’t know, for the most part, though he recognizes Professor Harley even with his beard trimmed short.  
   
He looks at those photos – strangers with smiling faces standing next to Krim, some of the colours faded from age – and feels something stab at him deep in his chest.  
   
You met him too late, says a voice in the back of his mind.  
   
(He has a few, of course, but a picture with a belt just isn’t quite the same.)  
   
He leans back in his chair with a sigh, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyelids. He didn’t get much sleep last night, and it’s starting to catch up with him, tiredness laying like a fog over his thoughts. Actually, he’s having a hard time remembering the last time he was well-rested. This weary feeling has been dragging him down for months now, it seems.  
   
Maybe if he just rests his eyes for a minute or two. Just so they won’t feel quite as heavy when he opens them again.  
   
Maybe just for a moment.  
   
  
   
  
   
Around him there is nothing but a pure, brilliant white. An empty, featureless void.  
   
“Tomari-san,” a voice says, and he turns to see –  
   
Someone. A person in a blue sweatshirt and jeans. There’s something awfully familiar about them, something friendly and reassuring, but their face is blotted out by the glare of the light. No matter what angle he looks at them from, it seems, the blinding brightness does not change.  
   
“It’s been a while,” they say.  
   
Shinnosuke can feel his brow knit together. “You are…?”  
   
“…What, you really don’t remember?” He can hear the disappointment in their voice, but they seem to shake it off just as quick. “Well. I guess this is technically a dream. Can’t really guarantee anything memory-wise, right?”  
   
“Right,” Shinnosuke murmurs, unsure of what the hell they’re talking about but feeling the need to agree nonetheless.  
   
“Even if you don’t know me, that’s okay. I just wanted to thank you, I guess? For helping me out like you did.” They lift a hand and rub at the back of their neck with a sheepish laugh. “Not to be weird, but I’ve kind of been… observing? Not a lot or anything! Just a little bit. And I was thinking, maybe… I could help you out in return? You and your – your friend.  
   
“The past… you’re not supposed to be able to change it,” they continue. “But every once in a while, something happens that just. Wasn’t really supposed to? Like a glitch in the system, almost. Or more like… if time was a spinning record, it would be the record scratching. You know?”  
   
Shinnosuke gives them a blank look.  
   
“Um. Anyways, you probably don’t care about the details. I just thought I’d show you how it could be. If things had gone how they should’ve. And if you prefer it, then maybe… The past could change for real.”  
   
“What are you – ” Shinnosuke tries to say, but before he can finish that thought they lift a hand and snap their fingers, and the sound reverberates like a continuous drumbeat in his ears.  
   
  
   
  
   
“Shinnosuke.”  
   
He wakes in a jolt of a bleary confusion, sitting up straight in his seat and banging his knee against the underside of the desk in the process. His heart is jackhammering away in his chest as he glances over at the person who spoke.  
   
Krim blinks back at him, wide-eyed behind his glasses.  
   
“Goodness,” he says, a bemused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If I’d known you were sleeping that deeply I would’ve left you to it.”  
   
Shinnosuke stares at him for a long moment. Closes his eyes and then opens them again. Strange, he thinks. Krim looks _real_ – tangible and human, nothing at all like a hologram.  
   
“…Belt-san?” he says, quiet and hesitant, like he’s afraid speaking too loudly might destroy this. Whatever _this_ is.  
   
Krim raises an eyebrow. “Belt-san?” he echoes. “You haven’t called me that in a while.” Frowning, he reaches out a hand and places it on Shinnosuke’s forehead, and the genuine weight and warmth of his palm is all Shinnosuke can focus on. “Are you feeling alright? Not coming down with something, I hope?”  
   
Shinnosuke opens his mouth and closes it again wordlessly.  
   
“…No,” he manages. “No, I’m – ” He shakes his head. “I just had a weird dream, I think? Don’t worry about it.” And here he hesitates for a moment before adding: “Krim.”  
   
He’s not used to saying that name, and it should feel strange and unfamiliar on his lips but it doesn’t, somehow.  
   
“Hmm? Well do try not to fall asleep again,” Krim says. His eyes crease endearingly around the edges as he smiles. “We have big plans this evening, Shinnosuke. Big plans!” He turns to walk away, calling over his shoulder: “Which car would you like to take? It’s your pick today.”  
   
“Ah, um… the Coupe?”  
   
“ _Excellent choice_ ,” Krim says in English, humming to himself as he approaches the car in question. “I just tuned up the ignition the other day, actually – should run like a charm.”  
   
Still a bit dazed, Shinnosuke gets to his feet abruptly, jostling the desk and sending the photo album clattering the floor. He bends down to pick it up and freezes, fingertips hovering just above the page.  
   
He _knows_ this page had been blank when he’d dozed off. He remembers it vividly. (Probably because he’d been using it as a pillow.) But suddenly there’s a photo there – a recent one, of Krim and Kiriko and himself standing outside the warehouse. He has one arm around Krim’s waist and the other around Kiriko’s shoulders, and he almost doesn’t recognize himself, as bright as his smile is.  
   
He doesn’t remember taking this picture.  
   
(But no, he thinks, as something that’s not quite a memory presses in, insistent, at the corners of his mind. Maybe it did happen.  
   
To a different him.)  
   
  
   
  
   
_Perhaps_ now isn’t the best time to be transfixed by the inner workings of antique automobiles. Maybe, _possibly_ , he has bigger things to worry about at the moment.  
   
But he’s been admiring the Coupe ever since he first found the warehouse. And it’s not like he can just take it out for a spin himself. He doesn’t know the first thing about operating a seventy-year-old car. The prospect of driving one of Krim’s most beloved possessions straight into a brick wall keeps hanging like a dark cloud over his head.  
   
So he runs a reverent hand over the real leather seats and the wood-paneled dashboard – polished recently, judging by the shine. He rolls the window down and then up and then down again. He tries not to pay attention to how cramped it is for someone of his height, legs arranged at an awkward angle.  
   
“How much did you pay for this thing?” he mutters, opening the glove box to find a pair of sunglasses and an old, faded map of California inside.  
   
Krim looks like he’s actually about to tell him, so he lifts a hand to cut him off.  
   
“You know what? I don’t even want to know.”  
   
Krim laughs softly at that, hanging a right and taking them farther towards the city outskirts. Shinnosuke finds himself watching his hands on the wheel, remembering the warmth of his touch from before. The bizarrely warm touch, now that he thinks about it.  
   
“Why were your hands so hot?” he asks. “Are _you_ sick?”  
   
“Were they?” Krim says, and makes a ‘tsk’ noise. “I suppose I’ll have to do something about that… When I was creating the Roidmudes, body temperature wasn’t exactly high on my list of things to focus on. I had no idea it would be so difficult to program accurately.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully. “Well, I knew this body would have its drawbacks. Still far more convenient than the belt, though.”  
   
It takes Shinnosuke a minute to process the meaning of his words. The realization hits him gradually, all of the pieces falling together with a _click_ , and he habitually reaches up as if to tighten the knot of his tie. He can hear that voice from his dream in the back of his mind, saying _I just thought I’d show you how it could be. If things had gone how they should’ve._ Is this what they meant?  
   
The Drive tech, the Roidmudes… They were far too dangerous. Humankind wasn’t ready for them. Or so Krim had said, before he’d disappeared down into the earth and out of Shinnosuke’s life. But for months now Shinnosuke has been wrapped up in doubt. In the end, wasn’t it really just the actions of one man that made them that way? One man, twisting their purpose into something terrible and sad. Holding the rest of humanity to Banno Tenjuro’s awful standards seems like an oversight at best.  
   
The more he dwells on it, the more he’s convinced: Krim, in all his intelligence, had made the wrong call.  
   
“Where are we going, anyway?” he asks, forcing himself to push those thoughts aside.  
   
“You’ll see,” Krim says with a knowing smile.  
   
“Keeping secrets, huh?” Shinnosuke leans back in his seat (as much as he can, at least), resting an arm against the open window and stretching out his hand, feeling the breeze slip through his fingers. It’s a surprisingly mild day for August. Every once in a while the sun vanishes behind a cloud as tall as a mountain.  
   
For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel tired at all.  
   
  
   
  
   
It takes nearly an hour and a half to reach their destination – a restaurant on a remote seaside road in Kashima, built out over the cliff, with wide glass windows that seem to open up on to the ocean. A sign reading _Izabella’s_ in immaculate English lettering hangs from a wooden signpost out front.  
   
“This is it, isn’t it?” Krim says as they exit the car. “The place you mentioned a few months back.”  
   
“…I did?” Shinnosuke says without thinking, and the way Krim’s face falls is heartbreaking to watch.  
   
“I mean – yeah. I did,” he says hastily. “This is definitely the one. Just. Got the name confused for a second.”  
   
Krim’s smile settles back into place. “Good, good. This is a very exclusive establishment, you know. I had to make reservations ages ago.”  
   
“Exclusive” would be one way of describing it. “Swanky” is more the direction Shinnosuke is leaning, as the hostess offers to have someone to take their suit jackets before leading them through the high-ceilinged dining area, lit by candles and a dim golden light, its walls painted with murals of ocean waves capped with foam. There’s hardly anyone else in the place, but the few that are look far more distinguished than Shinnosuke feels. He glances down at himself and self-consciously smoothes his hands over the creases in his shirt.  
   
“The balcony, as you requested,” the hostess says to Krim, opening a set of glass doors and bowing as she shows them through.  
   
It seems to have been reserved only for them, judging by the way the other un-set tables have been pushed off the side. There’s a bottle of wine already waiting for them, and Krim looks pleased as he checks the label.  
   
“Everything is as you specified, sir?” Shinnosuke can hear the hostess ask. She starts rattling something off about daily specials, but he’s not quite paying attention, too focused on the view – the open stretch of ocean lit up with orange and yellow by the low-hanging sun, dotted here and there with fishing boats and buoys, a rocky island in the distance casting a long shadow over the water. He steps closer to the wooden railing and peers over it at the long, sheer drop below, and is suddenly, keenly aware of the way the boards creak beneath his feet.  
   
“You think this is part of the appeal?” he says. “The element of danger while you’re eating?”  
   
Krim laughs, appearing at his elbow and handing him a glass of the wine – a pale, dry white, and though Shinnosuke is sure it must have cost some exorbitant amount, in the end it just tastes like wine to him.  
   
“It is a bit exciting, isn’t it?” Krim says, a gleam in his eye as he looks down at the swirling rock-strewn water below.  
   
Shinnosuke raises an eyebrow.  
   
“Y’know,” he says slowly. “You’re a lot different from how you used to be.”  
   
“You think so?”  
   
He nods. “The old you was always thinking about how things could go wrong. Now… not so much.”  
   
Krim ducks his head, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Well,” he says, “I suppose that’s all thanks to you, Shinnosuke.”  
   
  
   
  
   
In the end, he orders something that he can’t quite pronounce but that Krim assures him is “exquisite.” It turns out to be perfectly-cooked lobster, browned with butter and served over crisp, thinly-cut shreds of colourful vegetables, all of it arranged within a halo of sauce that tastes of lime and herbs. Shinnosuke alternates between taking bites of it – undoubtedly going a bit blank behind the eyes as he’s overwhelmed by how _good_ it all is – and listening to Krim’s conversational chatter. Rinna and Gen-san’s last date was a disaster, apparently (the hilariously memorable kind). Kiriko is stumped by a recently re-opened cold case, and “you should really be helping her with it, Shinnosuke, I don’t know why on earth you’re stuck working that dead-end armed robbery.” Shinnosuke can’t help but agree with him despite having no knowledge of the case in question.  
   
“Did you get Gou’s latest picture?” Krim asks. “He said something to Kiriko about going to Sequoia next. You know, I haven’t been there in twenty-five years…”  
   
“Hold on,” Shinnosuke murmurs, taking his phone out of his pocket – the same as he’s used to, though the lockscreen is set to a photo of all the Shift Cars rather than the default blue. He opens up his Snapchats and sure enough, there’s a recent one from Gou. “chillin @ the grand canyon” it says, over a picture of Gou in shades, throwing up a peace sign, reddish cliffs stretching out behind him, and –  
   
The silvery shape of #000 hovering in the air above his head.  
   
Shinnosuke sucks in a breath, grip tensing around his phone.  
   
“Is something wrong?” Krim asks, peering at him with concern over the rim of his wine glass.  
   
Shinnosuke swallows hard against the sudden tightness in his throat before shaking his head. “No,” he says. “Just… thinking. About how lucky it was that you were around. To bring back Chase like you did.”  
   
It’s a shot in the dark, of course. It’s not like he _knows_. But Krim’s answering smile tells him everything he needs to.  
   
“Well, you were there. You know it was Harley and Rinna’s doing just as much as mine. And it’ll be a while yet before we work out a way to restore his systems completely.” His smile falters a bit. “I was… never the best creator to Chase, I suppose. This is the least I can do for him.”  
   
“…Yeah,” Shinnosuke says quietly. _I was never the best friend to Chase, either,_ he’s about to say, but is saved from it as the waiter appears beside their table, with offers of tea, espresso, and desserts that sound far too complex to be real.  
   
  
   
  
   
“So,” Krim says. “How was it all?”  
   
Shinnosuke stretches in his seat, ‘hmm’ing thoughtfully as he keeps Krim in suspense. “Definitely the nicest anniversary date I’ve been on,” he says finally.  
   
Krim promptly chokes on the dregs of his coffee.  
   
“Sh-Shinnosuke!” he stammers. “You shouldn’t joke about things like that.”  
   
Shinnosuke blinks at him. “No joke,” he says.  
   
“That’s – this is just a day to commemorate our first meeting. Calling it an anniversary, much less a date is…” He trails off, hiding his face behind his hand in a way that doesn’t quite hide the red in his cheeks.  
   
Shinnosuke presses his lips together as he struggles to bite back a laugh.  
   
“Krim,” he says coaxingly, gesturing at the candlelit table in front of them. “This is absolutely a date.”  
   
Krim opens his mouth as if to protest, but is interrupted once more by the waiter (impeccable timing, really), who bows low as he returns their copy of the check. They gather their things, Shinnosuke downing the last sip of his wine, and it’s only when they’re halfway across the restaurant dining room that Krim continues his argument.  
   
“You realize most of these people probably think I’m your father,” he hisses under his breath, glancing around surreptitiously at the few occupied tables. “I’m certainly old enough to be.”  
   
Shinnosuke takes in the knowing look in the hostess’s eyes as she thanks them for their service. They smile amiably in return, turning to push the doors open, and Shinnosuke ushers Krim through, leaning down to mutter:  
   
“Yeah, pretty sure no one’s thinking that.”  
   
The sunset has all but faded into dusk as they reach the car. Krim slows his pace to a halt and stands there staring out at the ocean, at the last few hints of pink and orange reflected on the water, and Shinnosuke in turn stares at his back, at the way his shoulders seem to slump gradually lower.  
   
“I’m too old for you, Shinnosuke,” he says, and his voice is quiet. Tinged with resignation. “You should be with someone younger. Someone with more to offer.”  
   
Shinnosuke runs a hand through his hair, frustration prickling at his skin. “Krim,” he sighs. “You realize I liked you back when you were a _belt_ , right? I don’t think something like age is much of an issue here.”  
   
Krim whirls around to face him. “You say that now, but – ” He shakes his head. “But a few years on, I’m sure things will change.”  
   
“Okay, first of all, no. It won’t. Second of all… you do know you’re basically a robot now, don’t you? Do Roidmudes even age?”  
   
That question seems to give him pause. He frowns, eyes narrowing behind the reflective sheen of his glasses.  
   
“You know, I’m honestly not sure,” he says finally. “The way they – we – copy humans in just that: a copy. It captures a human’s appearance from just that one specific moment in time. So no, on their own I don’t believe a Roidmude would age physically. But if an artificial cosmetic aging program were installed, then perhaps – ”  
   
Shinnosuke clears his throat.  
   
“Right, right, sorry. Remind me to think on that later, will you?” He trails a thumb along his jawline thoughtfully before glancing up to meet Shinnosuke’s eyes. “Is this really something you want?” he asks, disbelief colouring his words. “You’re a good-looking and successful young man, Shinnosuke, you know you could…”  
   
He trails off, distracted, as the phone in Shinnosuke’s hand lights up, vibrating with an incoming text.  
   
“It’s Kiriko,” he says as he reads it. “She wants to know if our anniversary date went well.”  
   
“Wha – she did not!” Krim splutters, moving to swipe the phone from him, but Shinnosuke lifts it up and out of his reach. Krim levels him with an unimpressed look. “Give me that phone, Shinnosuke. I know you just made that up.”  
   
He makes another grab for it, but Shinnosuke laughs and holds it higher still, up over his head, until Krim is all but on his tiptoes as he reaches for it. His determined expression as he stretches out his fingers – seemingly undaunted by the fifteen centimeters of height difference between them – is, in this moment, the most endearing thing Shinnosuke has ever seen.  
   
He leans down to kiss him, smiling against his lips, and Krim makes a small, startled noise, letting his hand fall against Shinnosuke’s chest as he relaxes into it. Shinnosuke pulls back just enough to take in his flustered expression before wrapping his arms around him, burying his face against the crook of his neck.  
   
“I wish this could be real,” he says softly. “I wish I – ”  
   
_I wish I hadn’t spent all those months feeling empty, when it could’ve been like this instead._  
   
“What do you mean, ‘real?’” Krim is saying, his palm warm against the small of Shinnosuke’s back. “Shinnosuke, are you crying?”  
   
“No,” he says, but it comes out hoarse. He sniffles and tries to blink away the stinging in his eyes. “Krim, I – ”  
   
It takes him a moment to realize that the world has gone still. The sound of the ocean is suddenly, suspiciously absent, and the wind has stopped, and he can no longer feel the heat of Krim’s Roidmude body beneath him.  
   
He glances up.  
   
“So,” says the person in the blue sweatshirt. Despite the dusk around them their face is still a blur of light, like an old photo that’s been exposed for too long. “What do you think?” He can hear a smile in their voice. “I have a feeling you might be wanting to change things.”  
   
“What gave you that idea?” Shinnosuke says, raising an eyebrow, and their laugh seems to resonate from every direction.  
   
“You know I’ve never tried this before?” they say. “Time travel, I mean. Sorry if it feels a little weird. And... good luck with everything, Tomari-san. Once you’ve fixed the past there’s nowhere to go but forward, right?”  
   
They snap their fingers, and –  
   
  
   
  
   
He’s back in the Drive Pit.  
   
His memories of this day are so vivid that being there again in the flesh makes him feel unreal, detached from himself, like an echo in the shape of a person.  
   
Everyone is gathered there to see Krim off. Next to him, Kiriko’s expression is soft, candid, without any of her usual professionalism. Rinna’s fingers are twisting the hem of her labcoat. Gen-san looks like he’s struggling to keep it together. None of them want Krim to leave, but they hang back all the same, respectful of his choice, listening to his words and trying to convince themselves that this is all for the best.  
   
Shinnosuke steps forward.  
   
He walks straight through the hologram of Krim that flickers and fades around him, reaching out a hand to touch the faceplate of the belt, and this time he says:  
   
“Wait.”


End file.
